Dumped.

Dumped by Michael Scott.

She sat alone in her apartment (in the dark) for the first Friday night in what felt like forever. Well, at least since she started—whatevering with Michael. Dating? Having a relationship? Falling in love?

And two days ago, they’d broken up. He’d broken it off with her. With an ultimatum.

Maybe it was her natural reflex to not give in—to not even hear him before going on the defense. But in five minutes, it was over.

It was so simple and so stupid in retrospect. He wanted her to commit. To him. To them. It wasn’t a new concept.

“I love you, Jan.”

He said it often. He always meant it. And lately, he’d been waiting. Waiting to hear it back. Michael respected her awkwardness with him in public, but when they were alone he’d hold her gaze a little longer. He wanted to hear it back. (He deserved to.)

For whatever reason, (fear, nausea, panic) she’d never been able to say it. It wasn’t fair to him. To them.

She’d poured herself a glass of wine, but it sat untouched on her coffee table. Any other week, she would’ve been in Scranton by now, most likely curled up with Michael on the couch, her head against his shoulder while he narrated whatever movie they were watching. It was like Mystery Science Theatre with a twist of Scott. He made her laugh. Her laugh made him smile.

Dr. Perry would have volumes to say on her current state of mind, but he was out of town and explaining her weird (wonderful) relationship with Michael wasn’t something that any emergency shrink would be equipped to handle.

Besides, she already knew the answers. Why couldn’t she tell him she loved him? Why couldn’t she let go of the last bit of control (sanity?) holding her back from marriage, babies and ketchup fights?

The crippling and paralyzing fear of happiness.

Her failed marriage had taught her to not expect too much and to guard her heart carefully. Michael had torn down the walls around it piece by piece without her even realizing it.

*~*~*~*~*

It was two and a half hours to Scranton, but she’d made it in just under two. Thankful that she hadn’t been pulled over. Lucky that she hadn’t turned herself around.

Parked outside his condo on the darkened street, she finally came to. What was she doing here? What was she going to say? Would she even be able to say it? Would he let her in?

Of course, he’d given her a key the second weekend she’d stayed with him.

Problem solved.

If she could just make herself get out of the car.

She could see the light flickering from the television through the window. He was sitting in the dark, too.

Jan took a deep breath and gathered her courage.

Now or never, Jan.

The key was shiny and untarnished on her key ring and she carefully fitted it into the lock. She was sure he could hear the door opening and closing, but no response came from his living room. From her vantage point in the foyer, she saw him sitting on the couch with his eyes facing, but unfocused on the TV.

He made no move to acknowledge her presence and she tried to pretend it didn’t sting as much as it did while she moved across the room and gingerly sat down next to him, leaving plenty of space between them.

“Hi,” she whispered.

“Hey.”

For the first time since they met all those years ago, he didn’t look at her. He stared straight ahead at the program blaring from the television.

“Michael, this is an infomercial.”

“I know.”

“For a product you already have.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

They sat in silence while watching the demonstration of the amazing product and learned it could be theirs (again) for only three easy payments of $29.95. When it was over, she reached for the remote between them and silenced the box in front of them and in turn, darkened the room completely. She’d never known him to be silent for so long.

“Can we talk?”

“I don’t know what to say, Jan.” The moonlight spilled in from the vertical blinds casting across his face. His eyes were sad. His eyes were the same as hers.

“So just listen to me.”

He nodded.

“Michael, look at me. I need you to look at me.”

He complied with her request. (He always did.)

“I know why you’re upset with me. And I owe you an apology.”

“Jan—“

“Wait, let me finish. I owe you an apology because you’ve been nothing but wonderful and I’ve been nothing but—“

“Don’t say horrible. That’s not true.”

“I haven’t been fair to you. And there’s some things I need to tell you. But first…”

She reached across his body and turned on the table lamp next to him.

“I need you to see me say this.”

The light was low, but it was enough. She could really see him now. He took in her mismatched sweats and mussed hair. She really had left Manhattan with nothing more than her purse.

“You make me happy, Michael. I think you know that, but I don’t tell you enough.”

“You’ve never told me that.”

“It’s a multi-part apology, okay?” She smiled softly.

He nodded.



“You make me happy—happier than I’ve ever been in my entire life. You make me feel crazy and exhilarated and like I’m jumping out of a plane without a parachute and, Michael, that terrifies me.”

“I scare you?”

“We scare me.”

“I don’t understand, Jan.”

“I love you, Michael. And I’ve been so afraid to say it out loud because that means this is all real. This isn’t some dream I’m going to wake up from when my alarm clock goes off.”

He looked at her searchingly. His eyes were so expressive, so open.

“Why did you come here?”

She shifted her weight and closed the space between them. She entwined her fingers with his and looked at him.

“This is where I belong.” She kissed him softly.

When she pulled back he was smiling. “Okay.” He pulled her against him and she settled into the crook of his arm. She let her head rest against his shoulder and he turned the television back on.

end